Shadows
by Siriusly Devoted
Summary: Hermione struggles with the repercussions of the war. Who will help her? ONESHOT.


Disclaimer: I do not own characters or plot.

Hermione's Diary.

The war.

What was accomplished?

Harry is gone.

Ginny is a shell of the girl she used to be, quiet, depressed and destined to spend the rest of her life alone.

Ron is nothing, just a someone who spent their days drinking and sleeping, and no one can get through to him, although everyone seems to be facing the same fate, and their attempts are not wholehearted.

The Burrow and the Weasleys' are no longer happy and carefree; instead there is a cloud of depression hung around the place and it seems it will never go away.

And still the rest of the world goes on, the loss of such a wonderful boy, no _man_, does not affect them in the least. It doesn't matter if Harry is dead if Voldemort is also dead.

The irony of it all. Harry was portrayed as a hero when he was alive, but the only thing people care about now he's gone is the fact that their perfect world is not tainted by Voldemort and his followers any longer.

Parents always tell their kids that life is unfair if they don't get what they want, but taking Harry away is too much. That is beyond unfair, it's inhuman.

And in the midst of all this I stand, alone. Because everyone else does not see the point in anything. I try and I try, but nothing can help me help them. They are stuck in their grief and I cannot do anything to help. And that is what kills me.

I lost my best friend in that war.

And in the repercussions I lost the rest of my friends and my second family. So here I stand, alone.

He wasn't supposed to die! They were all too young! Finally my facade is slipping… It's empty, it's bleak and empty and useless and I don't know what to feel.

The future holds nothing.

Harry is gone.

No POV

Hermione cradled the shot of vodka in front of her. She wasn't a big drinker, never had been in all her eighteen years, but here she was on her fourth shot in twenty minutes. Quickly downing it, she stood and wobbled slightly before grabbing her cloak and stumbled out the door to greet the bleakness of winter. Wrapping her cloak round her safely in a pathetic attempt to keep warm, she glanced around then walked down the street. She had no destination, she just wanted to walk, another attempt at clearing her head. Instead she found herself headed in the direction of another pub.

"Fuck it," she murmured to herself pushing open the door. Inside it was dark and dank, but warm and Hermione collapsed gratefully onto a bar stool.

"What can I get ya, love?" an elderly barman asked and Hermione barely looked up before ordering a shot of vodka.

"Bad day?" the kind man asked as he pushed the shot to her.

"Something like that," she replied, again downing her drink.

"I sympathise with ya, lovie, everyone who comes in here's had a bad day," he nodded to the darkest corner, "He's barely left the place since his wife died two months ago,"

Hermione managed a brief smile.

"An' ya see that group over there, meet here every other day, except Sundays mind, 'cause they is unemployed and living off them benefits, no one wants to employ an ex con. Don't see why not, the worst they ever done is nick a couple a fags off the street. An' that lot," he pointed to a different corner, "That lot are all gay or transvestites, cross-dressers and the like, no one else will have them near them. So much prejudice in the world, lass. So what's up with you then?"

She smiled at him. "Thank-you," He returned her smile with earnest. "Another?" She nodded and accepted the glass.

"My best friend, he… He was given a task by an old friend, kill or be killed, someone we all would trust with our lives without a second thought. We were winning the war, we could see the light as it were," she shuddered, trying to block the tears.

"Then it all changed," A sob broke through and blood dripped from her lip from her efforts to refrain from crying. "Voldemort, the bad guy, he got Harry on his own and they duelled, everyone stopped fighting to see, Harry was winning, he knew what to do, everything he'd had to witness in his seventeen years taught him _something_, and he got Voldemort on his knees, begging. I think all the anger, the hurt, the pain Harry felt was what killed Voldemort, rather than Harry himself, and then we see Voldemort so very, very dead and we rush forward to victory when all Voldemort's followers' either ran or tried to kill themselves, or insist they didn't know what they were doing, it wasn't them!"

"Before we know it, Ron and Ginny, my other best friends, and I are with Harry, but something's wrong, he's struggling to breathe and instinctively we know he's dying, he's being taken away from us… Ginny screams and our friends run over, but it's too late. Ginny cradles his head while Ron and I each hold a hand, and we're all there for him as he takes his last breathe and shudders, his life draining away. Next we know, we're being treated in hospital for shock and all I can feel is… numb. I look at Ron and Ginny and they look as bad as I feel, and I know they're going through the exact same thing as me. We give each other some comfort but it's not enough; Harry's never coming back. Since then Ginny's depressed, she never eats, never sleeps and never leaves her room, I don't know the last time I even saw her smile. Ron, he just spends his days in a drunken stupor, lying about, always attached to a bottle of some alcoholic beverage. At night I hear both of them crying... I want to comfort them, but I don't know how. My love is not enough," she stopped suddenly, tears falling freely down her cheeks.

"I should go," The man merely nodded as she stood up and hastily left his establishment. Pausing at the door she glanced back and mouthed thank you before the door shut behind her. His keen blue eyes left the door and watched as a dark man stood and followed Hermione out. With one last twinkle his eyes swivelled, ready to serve his next customer.

Hermione kept to the shadows as she walked down the street. With surprise she realised she was in Hogsmeade. Barely thinking about it she trudged up the path to the castle, the one she had taken just last year with Harry, Ron, Ginny and all their other friends, classmates, professors. Reaching what remained of the gates, she peered into the gloom and, as her eyes accustomed to the dark, began to make out the ruins of the once great castle. Tears began to run down her face as she looked round the grounds, at the disaster and memories that the final battle had left.

"Tragic, isn't it?" The voice behind her made her whip round, wand in hand. Seeing only black she shivered.

"Who's there?" she questioned. Her question was met with silence. "Hello?" She suspiciously peered into the darkness again, trying to see the source of the voice, and failing.

"If this were a year ago and you'd done what you have just done, you would be dead by now, Granger," Looking to where the voice came from, she replied bitterly.

"This time last year I hadn't lost everything that has ever meant anything to me,"

"Touché,"

"True Voldemort was still around, and our lives were in constant danger, but I had my friends, my family, my school! I had my _life_!" she continued.

"Don't you think that's true for all of us?"

"I don't know! What was it like being a Death Eater?!" she spat back, recognising the face of Zabini through the fog that had wound its way into the small village and up to the castle since she had walked up.

"Horrible, wanted nothing more than for it all to end," he sighed, "But I'm sure you don't want to hear that," Receiving the silent treatment he walked over to Hermione and bent down to whisper in her ear.

"He killed your parents because you were born from muggles, he killed my mum because I failed to do something right, so please, you tell me who is more of a victim,"

"I'm sorry," she whispered the words, turning away from him.

"I don't want your sympathy, Granger!"

She rounded on him. "I'm not giving you any sympathy Zabini! I just said I was sorry your mother was killed because some egotistical, murdering bastard got it into his head that he could rule the world and rid his precious planet of low and unworthy muggles!" She turned away again, tears streaming down her already wet cheeks.

"Why are you here?" she asked him a few moments later, her tears subsiding.

"I thought maybe you'd want to talk,"

"Well you thought wrong!" she snapped at him. "And if I wanted to talk, it certainly would not be to you!"

"Why not, Granger, why not? You have no one else to talk to!" Blaise said harshly. "One of your best friends is dead, the others might as well be! Your parents are gone, and the rest of the people you know are too busy mourning to notice anything else! I lost my best friend, too, in that war and I would do anything, _anything_, to bring him back!" He paused. "As much as I hate to say it, I know how you feel, and I also know there is no one else to talk to. We're never going to get on but can we at least talk just to keep us from going insane? You never know till you try,"

Hermione nodded. "I know. You're right, about everything." Suddenly she burst out, "I hate this! I hate this world we live in now! I hate it! I hate it! I hate it!" Blaise ran to the hysterically crying girl and wrapped his arms round her. "Maybe I was wrong," he murmured, "Maybe we can get on," She merely wrapped her arms around him tightly and sobbed.

They began meeting up quite regularly, when Ginny and Ron had had bad days and all Hermione wanted to do was get away, the first person she looked for was Blaise Zabini. They met in various places, cafes and restaurants in London, Manchester, Liverpool even Belfast and Dublin. Sometimes they both just needed was a little comfort and TLC. Sometimes they even went to bars and nightclubs, and sometimes they just went for a walk or a window shop. But never, in the 3 months since their first meeting after the war at the devastated grounds of Hogwarts, had they ever ventured to the others' house. Some boundaries were not meant to be crossed.

It was now April. The sun was out, the birds were singing and Hermione was working her way through a pile of paperwork. Her uncle had just died (from natural causes) and she needed to sort the funeral out, her aunt too grief-stricken and her being their only living relative and all. An owl tapped at the window and almost immediately she recognised Blaise's scrawl. Relieving the bird of its mail, she dragged herself back to the old wooden chest she had previously been sitting at and scanned through the letter. Seeing Blaise wanted to meet her, she quickly shoved all the paper together and grabbed her coat and shoes, apparating to Hogsmeade as she did so.

When her feet touched the ground she briefly wondered when she had become so attached to Blaise that she would drop everything for him in a second. Shoving it aside due to the fact that she was stressed and needed a break anyway, she headed to the Three Broomsticks. Inside she could smell a mix of beer and cigarette smoke, and although she did not smoke and had no desire to based upon the smell, she breathed in deeply and smiled. What a wonderful pub smell, just right to help her relax. Seeing Blaise at the bar talking to Madam Rosmerta, she looked around at the busy pub and noticed that a few professors were in there. Smiling sardonically at them she headed to the bar and gave Madam Rosmerta her order. Blaise glanced up at her as she sat down (causing his gaze to shift a little) and said a simple "Hi," She waved in greeting, suddenly feeling tired and drawn.

"Long day?" He asked her. She nodded.

"Not even mid-afternoon and I'm ready for bed. Stupid funeral arrangements, take forever. Don't get me wrong, I want to give Uncle B a good send off, but does it have to be so damn _tiring_?" she moaned. He grinned.

"Of course my dear," She playfully slapped him as he smirked at her. That old Slytherin smirk. That old, _sexy_, Slytherin smirk. Hermione, what are you thinking, she scolded herself.

"Fancy a walk?" he asked as she finished the last of her butterbeer.

"Sure," she replied, graciously accepting his hand to help her down from the stool. Both headed towards the door and didn't notice the winks being passed between the remaining professors, namely McGonagall, and Madam Rosmerta.

"They'll be good for each other, if only for a short while," McGonagall murmured to Flitwick softly, "Oh my, I sound like Albus!"

Flitwick looked at her. "Well somebody's got to resume his meddling, Minerva!"

Outside the two previous enemies walked side by side up towards the Shrieking Shack. "Is that place still haunted, do you think?" Blaise asked.

"Nah, it was never haunted," Hermione grinned, "Just a place for fools to play,"

"What?"

"Oh nothing. Just, it was built so Remus Lupin had a place to go when he was in his wolf form. James, Sirius and Peter all became animagus in their third year…"

"Wasn't that illegal?"

"Shush! Yes! Anyway… so Remus wouldn't be alone on the full moon. It was merely dubbed as haunted so no one would go near it and therefore be bitten by Remus,"

"Okay, how'd you know this?"

"I was there when Sirius came back. We were in the shack because Sirius in his dog form grabbed Ron and took him down there, looking for Pettigrew, who turned out to be Ron's rat. Harry and I followed and Remus was there too, and it all got confusing and Snape came and everything, but the thing is that we were there when Remus and Sirius were talking about what happened when James and Lily died so we found out a lot,"

"You were there?" Blaise asked in disbelief.

"We didn't get called brave and all that for nothing you know, we did actually do stuff. Quite a lot actually," she added thoughtfully, lost in her memories, dreaming of better days.

"Mmm,"

"Blaise?" Hermione turned to question him and was stopped as his mouth descended on hers. At first she was hesitant, but soon she relaxed into the kiss. It became heated and desperate and they clung to each other, needing the comfort the other brought. Hermione heard the pop of them apparating and gasped as she opened her eyes to an amazing room, obviously belonging to a mansion.

"This is your…"

"Yes. I think we crossed that barrier," Blaise said breathlessly.

It was Hermione's turn to kiss him, slowly but fiery and passionately. Blaise began to drag her out of the room. She stopped. "Blaise…" she began.

"What's wrong, Hermione?" he asked, "You're a big girl now. What is there to lose?"

She mumbled something. "Pardon?" he asked (ever the gentleman).

"Just my virginity," she whispered, a little louder. He crossed the space between them in the blink of an eye.

"I know, love, I know, and I promise I'll be gentle,"

"Promise?" Her eyes looked up at him, full of hope. So full of naivety. "Promise," he whispered, lowering his lips to hers to give her a light kiss. I promise I'll do what I can to make your pain go away, he carried on silently.

He led her up the stairs holding her hand and never wanting to let go. She felt pretty much the same, save the nervousness. Opening a door to the right, they stepped in together and Hermione gaped at the beauty.

"Am I right in assuming this is yours?" she asked, admiring the old wooden desk by the door.

"Indeed," he replied, snaking an arm round her waist and pulling her towards him. Her laugh was muffled as he kissed her, his kiss promising his love, but neither of them knew that.

Heading towards the bed, Hermione was nervous…

"You're so beautiful," Blaise murmured, drawing circles on her arm and tummy.

"Mmm, you too," Hermione replied sleepily.

"Good morning!"

"Morning. What are you so happy about?" Wait, where was she? And what was she doing here? She sat up. "What…?" She looked at Blaise, immediately noticing his lack of clothing, and then at the room, again immediately noticing the non-familiar surroundings. Then she felt the slight dull pain from between her legs. She groaned. "I remember now,"

Blaise just grinned. "Impossible to forget," He replied impishly.

"Shut up"" she moaned. "Can I have some clothes, please?"

"Oh, but I like you like that," Blaise whined. At her glare he summoned her clothes and discreetly turned so she could dress (slyly looking in the mirror so he could still see her). "Stop looking at me! I can see the damn mirror, you twit!" Rolling her eyes, she stood from the bed, fully dressed.

"You know, I'm just going to take them off again,"

"Okay, so that was fun. Now, please may I have some clothes, for the _second_ time this morning?"

"Admit it, you love me,"

"I love you,"

"What?"

"I love you,"

"Yeah, but… What?"

"Blaise Zabini, I love you,"

He gaped at her. Then suddenly it hit him. "I love you too, Hermione," he managed to gasp out. She smiled. "I know,"

Hermione's Diary

Okay, so maybe all along I just needed a little TLC. I guess that's how I helped Ron and Gin. They're both doing better now, Ron's holding off the booze and is trying to get a job, Gin's dating some new bloke. George had his first child with Angelina last week, and everything is looking up.

_Well, almost everything._

Shut up Blaise! – My charming fiancé. Sometimes you just _have_ to roll your eyes. Anyway all I needed was… Blaise I guess.

_Yeah, that's right._

Oh for god's sake, get out! At this rate you won't live till the wedding.

_It's tomorrow._

I KNOW!

_Okay, okay._

Thank you. As I was saying all I needed was a little extra love, and some meddling on Minerva, Madam Rosmerta and Aberforths' sides (I swear they're all channelling Dumbledore). A little extra love, and…

_Some damn good fucking. From me._

BLAISE ZABINI!

_She sounds scarily like my mother… Uh oh, time to run, byeeeeeee!_

Argh! Men! Anyway, like he said, byeeeeeee!

(_I was right, do daaa!)_

_rolls eyes_ He's dead.

No POV

So, as it turned out Hermione just needed a little direction and a little help… And a good, hard fuck.

_Minerva McGonagall!_

A/N: Sorry for the lack of lemons! I didn't want to ruin it all with too much smut considering it's meant to be comedic than romantic. It didn't turn out like I imagined it, but hey! Please review!


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